


I Dreamed About You Last Night

by nerdqueenenterprise



Series: 100 Ways To Say 'I Love You' [7]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: (also because justin is an amazing friend), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, but they talk about it in the end bc they're adults, nobody look at me i don't know how work contracts function and i don't want to know either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 06:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15188714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdqueenenterprise/pseuds/nerdqueenenterprise
Summary: The fight had been coming for a long time, but when it finally happens, it's still not pretty. Finding back together is a little difficult.





	I Dreamed About You Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> (you might want to read the two parts before this one in the series for some BackgroundTM on what's happening)

In hindsight, maybe having that conversation just after Hugh came back from work, on the evening before he’s got another conference, wasn’t the best idea.

To say it ends in tears is putting it mildly. To say it ends with Hugh saying he’ll sleep over at Phil’s and Chris’ place is only half of the truth, too, because it also ends with Paul rocking himself huddled under a blanket while he’s racked with sobs.

Amelia stays by his side. 

Justin drives to Phil’s and Chris’ place to kill Hugh. Especially since it’s not like he didn’t tell Hugh nobody would ever find his body if he hurt Paul.

The smile he wears when he rings at the door is forced. He’ll stand here all night and ring the damn bell until someone opens the door.

Fortunately he doesn’t have to ring it for long, because Chris answers almost immediately, then sighs when he sees who it is.

“Don’t. He feels bad enough already.”

Justin presses against the door.

“Let me in.”

He’s got no chance against Chris, because Chris is built like Captain fucking America (and looks the part, too), but at least he doesn’t slam the door in his face.

“I can’t do that. He’s Phil’s friend, and Phil’s friend is my friend.”

“Yeah, look, your friend seems intent on shattering my friend’s heart and stepping on the pieces. Paul is crying his eyes out at home, and I’m going to kill Hugh for that.”

“What do you think Hugh is doing? Sorry, no way I’m letting you in.”

“You don’t even know what happened!”

Chris still shakes his head. “And you barging in here and starting to yell at him isn’t going to change that. Go home, look after Paul, we’ll fix this tomorrow when they’ve both calmed down.”

“Hugh is going on a conference tomorrow. For a whole week.”

“Then we’ll fix it afterwards. Now get out before I get you out.”

That’s when Chris slams the door into Justin’s face.

Yeah, no wonder Paul and Chris don’t get along. Chris is a mix between pretty princess model boy and high school bully, and Paul has definitely had very bad experiences with one of those.

 

 

 

 

By the time he gets back, Paul is huddled under a different blanket, watching what might be the worst movie since _The Expendables 3_ , and eating ice cream straight out of the tub. He looks like a Netflix Originals’ post-breakup scene.

There isn’t really anything Justin or Amelia can do, so they wrap themselves around Paul and let him snuggle (and heave shuddering sobs on occasion).

They also spend the night together on the couch, pulling it out to make enough space for the three of them, and even though Paul falls asleep pretty quickly, Justin wakes up at least twice to him softly crying into the pillow.

 

 

 

 

Paul throws himself into gardening work with vigor the next morning, smiling forcefully and with too much teeth every time he talks. Phil texts Justin that just in case he wants to know, yeah, Hugh did go to his conference in Toronto and landed safely.

_next time you set foot in this country, i_ will _kill you,_ he texts Hugh. _i told you when you two started dating that i’d murder you if you ever hurt him and that they’ll never find your body. time is fucking up_

He doesn’t expect any kind of reply, because if he’s honest, as much as he likes Hugh, he and Paul go way, _way_ back, and he’s seen Paul’s heart broken often enough (twice is often enough for a softie like Paul) to go ballistic now. Sure, Hugh doesn’t deserve his full wrath because it’s not like Paul did nothing wrong, and they’re both at fault, but Justin will also stand by Paul’s side until after Judgement Day.

But to his surprise Hugh texts back almost immediately.

_How is he?_

Justin doesn’t even consider telling him anything but the harshest truth.

a _bsolutely awful. he cried pretty much all night, and i have no idea how he even manages to stand right now. you better have a damn good plan to fix this._

Hugh takes forever to finish typing, and Justin hopes Hugh feels the way he’s glaring at the text right now.

_I don’t think I can properly put into words yet how sorry I am. To you and Amelia, yes, for putting you into this position, but just so incredibly much towards Paul. I remember, when Paul and I got together, and you had that shovel talk with me. I remember what I said about how much I love Paul, and I swear that hasn’t changed an iota. If anything, I love him even more now. And he has been nothing but supportive of me, and he never complained once when I joined crisis aid again or even just when I worked overtime for the tenth time a month, and he always made sure I’d have hot dinner and a clean house and a warm bed to come back to, and when my car was broken he let me use his until it broke too, despite that meaning he’d have to bike to work even though his work is further away than mine. He never made me feel bad about working this much, either. Which is probably another reason for why I reacted so badly now, because I’m just not used to it._

Well that sounds like a long list of justifications and niceties if Justin has ever read one. He’s just about to reply something scathing when he sees that Hugh is still typing.

_But those are all not excuses. I know that. I don’t want to justify the things I said. I’m probably just as heartbroken as Paul about them. I want to make it right again, Justin. I’ll do everything. But I might need your help. I have no idea how to approach him. I have no idea how to make him listen. I don’t want to ’fix it’ with pretty gifts and then continue on like I have; because even if it weren’t for our relationship, I know I can’t go on the way I have for much longer._

_Wait, that sounds like it’s about me. It’s not. It’s about Paul. I owe him a lot of talking and healing and caring, and part of that will definitely be taking a huge step back from work. But look, we both know Paul, and… I really don’t know where to start. I fucked up badly, Justin. I know that. And I want to fix it so badly, but I know I can’t rush over and hug Paul and be done with it. This is serious and I want to approach it seriously because I am serious about Paul. So please give me the benefit of the doubt here. Help me. Please._

_But I promise you I’ll do anything to make it up to him._

 

 

 

 

Justin is probably an asshole for leaving him hanging, but he’s got a Paul to cheer up. 

They go out for dinner, letting Paul try and fail at speaking Arab at their favorite little place for Middle Eastern food. Amelia actually started learning it, but Paul doesn’t have the patience for those things, so he has to endure everyone’s teasing when they eat there, especially ever since Justin happened to meet the owner at his mosque.

The food is great, and Paul relaxes some more and even his smiles turn genuine again.

After dinner, they take a bit of a walk around the city, watching people and eventually deciding to go to a little pub that seems to be having live music. It’s incredibly refreshing to see that cute carefree smile reappear on Paul’s face, to see him bouncing his leg and bopping his head, mouthing along to the lyrics.

“He’s going to come back, right?” he asks when they’re on the way home.

Justin almost crashes into the minivan in front of them.

“What?!”

“Hugh. He’s going to come back and it’s going to be okay, isn’t it?”

So Paul doesn’t even think Hugh is going to come back. Oh boy.

Justin presses a hand to his face and tries to bring some semblance of order back into his thoughts.

“Fuck, Paul, of course he’ll be back! Here,” Justin shoves his phone at him. “Read his texts.”

“He texted you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Paul, the guy is crazy about you! He just - he fucked up, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you anymore.”

Paul thumbs through the messages and keeps very, very quiet for a while.

Then: “Jus? Can you tell him that it’s okay? That he doesn’t have to - that I read these messages and I get it and it’s okay and he should just… just come home and it’s okay?”

“You mean you don’t want to talk to him about it?”

“Yeah. We don’t, you know, we don’t have to, because I read all of this and it’s okay.” Paul’s voice is wobbly again.

“Just so I’m sure: You’re not kidding?”

“No! Why would I be?”

“Because you’ve got to talk about this. Paul, you can’t… you can’t not talk about it. It’s a good first step that you both know neither of you hates the other one and that you both know neither of you wants to break up, but it can’t stay at that, okay? You _need_ to talk, so you can both be at peace again and just… put this behind you. Please.”

“But -”

“Don’t give me any crap. Talk to him, or I’m going to beat your ass too. Paul, come on. What happened to him being the love of your life?”

Paul sighs and curls up even more on the car seat. He’s never sat on a chair properly in his life, but unless he’s really cold or unwell, he doesn’t curl up, he more… stretches out. Everywhere.

“He is. That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

 

 

 

 

Jus and Amelia vacate the house on the day Hugh is scheduled to come back, opting to take the time and see Amelia’s mom, so Paul is not at all stressing out.

He can just barely sit still. Or concentrate. 

The house is spotlessly clean. The windows are spotlessly clean. The plants are watered. The pillows are fluffed. Paul even takes care of his cuticles, and his hands are sweaty and shaky.

And then the front door opens and falls shut. 

Paul can hear Hugh setting his bags down, taking off his shoes, taking off his jacket and there are tears burning in his eyes, making his lower lip wobble.

There are steps, as familiar to Paul as his own heartbeat. He turns around in the same moment that Hugh shows up in the doorway. Hugh looks like he didn’t sleep at all, and his beard is a little more stubbly than Paul remembers.

There’s also an odd apprehension in his eyes, lips drawn tight in worry, lines showing in the corners of his eyes. He’s worried. Scared, maybe.

Oh.

Paul launches himself into Hugh’s arms, his husband stumbling back with surprise and the sheer force of Paul, and then Paul presses his face into Hugh’s chest again and things are a little bit more okay. Hugh hugs him reflexively and then, carefully, snuggles his face into Paul’s hair.

“Hi Paul.”

“Hugh!” he manages in response.

“Can we talk?”

Paul nods against Hugh’s chest but doesn’t let go.

“Hugh?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you,” He swallows nervously. “Do you still love me?”

“What?! Of course I do! Paul… please don’t tell me you think I won’t love you anymore just because we fought. I, I, I love you so much, and maybe I love you even more now because - well, I mean, I did behave like an absolute tool, and… and you’re still here. You know. I’ve been a tool for quite a while now, and… you’re still here. I love you, I promise. So much.”

Paul breathes hotly into Hugh’s chest and holds on to his shirt.

“I love you too.”

“I know, baby. I know. Want to sit down and talk?”

 

 

 

 

They sit down in the windowseat in the kitchen and Paul makes them tea and then… well, now they’re sitting here and he can’t lift his eyes from his mug.

“I’ve been really selfish lately,” Hugh begins softly. “And… I don’t want to make excuses, um, especially since all the pressure I was under was pressure I put on myself. That wasn’t you, that wasn’t work, that was just me being an idiot. You mean the world to me, Paul. I mean… that’s why I married you, because you mean everything to me. I love you, I love spending time with you, and I - I - somehow I forgot about that, and took you for granted. Because you’re always there for me. You’re always - you always come to snuggle and lean against me and touch me, and you’re always very, I don’t know, very viscerally there for me and… I grew very complacent in that. I never even - the fucked up thing is that I never even thought about it myself, I just… somehow I assumed you’d know all that and… and know I want to spend as much time with you as you do with me, and that that would be okay and enough for me to do. It’s not, Paul. I - I should’ve known that - well, I did know it earlier, I just… never applied it to our relationship, and I shouldn’t have let it come to… to neglecting you in the way I did.”

“You didn’t neglect me,” Paul whispers. He feels tiny and scared in a way he’s never felt around Hugh. Hugh always made him feel safe.

“When is the last time I listened to you when you had a bad day? When is the last time I asked you how your day was and legitimately listened to you? When was the last time I took you on a date, or brought you flowers, or helped you in the garden or drove you to work? When was the last time I washed your hair? Paul… I’ve been physically present, but only because I live here. And - and when you told me the truth I yelled at you. That’s… not particularly nice.”

“I didn’t say a particularly nice truth.”

“But it is the truth!” Hugh puts his hand on Paul’s knee, the heat from his fingers bleeding through Paul’s pants almost immediately. “It’s the truth, love. Sure, you could’ve - you did word it harshly, but ultimately you’re right. You didn’t marry me so I could be physically present while you put in all the work. That’s not how it works, and we both know that. And I should’ve - I should’ve understood what you were saying instead of getting angry. You’re right. And I’m not - I’m not making excuses, Paul, please believe me. I’m just so unbelievably sorry I let this go on for so long and that I then - that all I did then was yell at you when I should’ve listened to you. You’re supposed to be able to trust me with these things, after all.”

“I told you you didn’t love me,” Paul says, still staring into his tea. “I - I - Hugh! I told you you didn’t love me. Just because you’re busy and you’re stressed to the max doesn’t mean I can say things like that.”

Hugh’s fingers squeeze.

“You do, right?” His voice is hollow.

“Of - of course I do. God, Hugh, I love you so much. I - maybe I said it with the intention of hurting you. Well, okay, that’s not true. I definitely said it to hurt you. Because I thought I could… I don’t know. Guilt trip you into… you know, into being around again. And that’s not okay either. I should just have… talked to you.”

“Well… baby, not to, you know, attack you here, but… you’re kinda shit at talking to people when things bother you. You know, looking out for yourself is… not your strongest suit.”

Paul has to laugh at that. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Yeah. Paul?”

“Yeah?”

“How do we move forward? I - I know I’ve got to, you know, lay low at work for a while, and - listen, you were absolutely right. I work too much and desperately try to please everyone while, and even if it weren’t for, for this, for us, I know I wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer either. I’m - in that aspect, I’m very glad you, uh, lost your patience with me.”

“I’ve been a total ass to you,” Paul bursts out. “Hugh, I’ve been giving you nothing but the cold shoulder, constantly trying to pressure you into working less, constantly making these nasty little comments -”

“To help me understand that -”

“It’s not helping if it’s abuse!”

“Whoa, okay.” Hugh sets his tea aside and cups Paul’s face. “Look at me, love.”

Paul refuses.

“Paul, please. Look at me.”

“Hugh, I - I,” God, he can’t even keep the tears out of his voice. “I made your life fucking _hell_ because -”

“Because I was doing nothing but neglecting you! Look - if you want to call it abuse, fine, but then call what I did by its name too, and that’s neglect. Which qualifies as abuse. Portabello, portabella, right? But here’s the thing. We’re adults in a relationship. We didn’t act like adults, but that’s what we are and - and neither of us is blameless in this but also neither of us is solely at fault. So… I don’t know what that was supposed to mean, but basically… the rules are a little bit different. So call it abuse if you want to, but… I’d call it a big, big misunderstanding based on the fact that we’re both very strong and very different characters and we… we’re both thickheaded, and bad at communicating the important things sometimes. I love you very much, Paul, and I want to resolve this, okay?”

“Me too. I’m just… I’m really bad at the whole talking thing. I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

Hugh squeezes Paul’s knee again.

“Can I… tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“When - when we would fight and I could feel it getting to you, I - it made me really happy. Like, perversely so. Because, I don’t know, because it meant I was hurting you and I was getting through to you, that you cared enough about me to… to be hurt, you know?”

“I do.”

“I know.”

Paul carefully sets his untouched cup aside too, still not looking into Hugh’s eyes, and crawls into his arms again. He missed touching Hugh like this, missed the safety of his arms so badly it felt like something was missing, and this is scary territory. With past relationships, once they started fighting the end was very near, and he can’t lose Hugh.

“So,” Hugh begins again, and the vibrations of his voice through his chest are the most comforting feeling Paul has had in a very long time. “Assuming we both want to move past this and improve, and, you know, keep, or, uh, you know, fix it, which I want more than anything, um -”

“I do,” Paul says immediately. “I do, Hugh, I really do, I want to keep you forever. And I, I want to go back to before. That, what we had there. I want that.”

“Me too, love. Which is why, um, I’m thinking of quitting my job.”

“What?!” Paul shoves off him and stares, looking at Hugh for the first time since their talk. “Are you crazy?! You love your job!”

“Yeah, I love being a doctor, but I don’t - even if it weren’t for us, I know I’m spreading myself thin. I’ve got a genetic predisposition for mental illnesses, my anxiety has been getting worse, I’m falling back into depression… this is not good.”

“Have you been talking to -”

“My psychologist? No, I’m going to have to get an appointment eventually. But… yeah, I told work I was going to take all my overtime starting at the beginning of the next rotation, which is next Monday. I’ve got three months worth of overtime, a six month contract, and if I put in my resignation at the end of those three months I’d hit the mark for those six months perfectly. I’d get nine months of pay where I don’t have to work. And… I don’t know. Maybe it’s what I should do.”

“Okay, okay, um, I…” Paul shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts somewhat clear. “First of all - three months of overtime? Really?”

“Well, 85 days, so… close enough. And yeah - surgery time counts double, so do nightshifts. And then all the other overtime I’ve been putting in.”

“Quitting your job is a huge deal.”

“I know. And… obviously, um, I’d start applying to the other hospitals around, and I wouldn’t quit without having a new job in the immediate area. I don’t want to either do the long distance thing again or to force you to move, um, especially because I know how happy you are with Justin and Amelia living with us. But I also… I don’t want to keep doing what I have been doing to you and to our relationship, and… fuck, Paul, I just need a break. So… yeah, I told them I was going to take my overtime now, they didn’t like that, I told them that if I wouldn’t get it then I’d quit and sue. I get paid either way, um, but if I sue they’ll have more of a problem. And if they decide to give in but the rotations don’t get better or they don’t, you know, make everyone else actually come in instead of giving them practically every day off, then… I can’t stay. Because of you, because of us, because of myself. But, um, ideally I’d start looking for new places already before I actually put in my resignation.”

“Right. That’s… that’s… Hugh, I’m not going to lie, that’s a lot to handle right now. Um.”

“Hey,” Hugh’s hands come up to cup Paul’s face again. “Don’t think about it. It’s just - at first I’m going to take my overtime off, I’m going to dedicate myself to the man I love - that’s you, by the way - and I’m going to make up for all the time I wasn’t there for you, and I’m going to recharge and talk to my psychologist, and… then we’ll see, okay?”

“Okay. I… I’m still sorry for all the things I said. I shouldn’t have said them, and I don’t… I want to make it - I mean I can’t make it okay, and I wish I could take them back.”

“I know, baby. Me too. If… if I could go back and change things, I would. In a heartbeat. But… well.”

“What’s done is done.”

“Yeah. I want to improve what will be.”

“Me too, Hugh.Can I… can I kiss you?”

Hugh’s eyes widen almost comically, and Paul’s stomach has absolutely no business knotting up the way it does.

“Of course!”

Oh!!

Paul knocks their heads together overeagerly, and overall it probably technically qualifies as a kiss because their lips meet. Hugh laughs into the kiss and gently forces Paul’s head back.

“Let’s try that again. Come here.”

 

 

 

 

Paul had pretty much forgotten how much he loves snuggling into Hugh on the Hollywood swing, occasionally taking sips from the lemonade he made and just talking about whatever. They’ve decided to let the future of Hugh’s job out of their conversation for now, but most else is fair game.

“I dreamed about you last night,” Paul says softly, after they’ve both been silent for a few minutes. “Remember the vacation on the west coast we had, sometime last fall? I dreamed about that. I don’t remember much of the dream, but… it was just, we met again and it felt like we’d been apart and saw each other again.”

Hugh squeezes his hand on Paul’s neck.

“Oh, Paul. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not anymore.”

“Okay.” Hugh takes a deep breath. “I, um, I dreamed about you too. Nothing special or profound, but, um, I saw you with this plant. And I saw a plant that looked kind of like that one at the airport, and, well, I got it for you.”

“You got me a plant!” Paul sets his drink down ungently, spilling far too much of it, but he doesn’t care. “Where is it!”

 

 

 

 

The plant is in the foyer, together with Hugh’s stuff. Paul missed getting plants from Hugh too, so much, because he always gets the ones that need some care, that let Paul dote on them for a while, and he’ll watch Paul with some of the biggest heart eyes Paul has ever seen, and it just feelsgreat.

And this time it’s especially good because finally things are normal again.

**Author's Note:**

> please nobody @ me about how contracts work or anything. i don't know these things and i don't want to know these things and i just hope that by the time i enter a workplace we've either got global communism or i can text my dad for help
> 
> but yeah!!! there!! i fixed it!!! everything is better now!  
> since these are all kind of in the same universe and set after each other, we'll probably see a bit more of hugh and his job problems, jus and amelia *finally* adopting, maybe a joint pet in the future... who knows!
> 
> if you liked this story, please leave me a comment and come say hi at [@shroom-roi](http://www.shroom-boi.tumblr.com)!


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